


Charity

by inbox



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Choking, Deepthroating, Facials, Hair-pulling, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-19
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-26 01:13:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/644902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inbox/pseuds/inbox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Charity

Gannon had the balls to laugh at him, the corner of his mouth kinked up, his amusement making him handsome in the harsh vault lighting. He kept smirking even as Boone shoved him to his knees, a big hand carding through his soft blond curls to press his face hard against his zipper.   
  
"Oh my," said Gannon dryly, fingers hooking into Boone's pockets and tugging enough to pull him off balance. "Such a rough touch."  
  
"Cocksucker," spat Boone, but there wasn't much venom behind it. If the firm swell that Gannon was scraping his cheek against was anything to go by, it was more of a statement of hope than anything else.   
  
"Only if you're lucky," said Gannon, breath warm against the metal teeth of his fly. "And I'm in a generous mood."  
  
"Yeah?" Boone looked down at him, the big blond doctor all owl-eyed after his glasses had been tossed halfway across the room. "You feeling generous now?"  
  
"Maybe." Gannon pressed his lips to the outline of Boone's erection, mouthing it and breathing hot damp air into the cotton until the fabric was dark with spit. He hummed low and grinned when the vibrations were enough to make Boone grunt and push his hips hard against Gannon's chin.   
  
"Maybe," he said again, and looked up. "Maybe definitely feeling generous enough to give you a bit of charity. Apparently I'm in a giving mood."  
  
Boone's hand tightened in his hair, digging his fingers hard enough into Gannon's scalp that he felt the snap and pull of hair breaking. He did it again, visibly annoyed when Gannon tamped down a wince and leant back into his grip.   
  
"Harder," he said. "If you're going to show me who's boss, at least make me feel it." He laughed when Boone's response was to drop a scattering of fine golden hair into his face. Always liked 'em with a bit of spark.   
  
From there it was the work of a few short moments to unbuckle and unzip and shove Boone's trousers and shorts down enough to free his cock to the chilled still air of Vault 21's cheapest room.   
 _No expense spared,_  Arcade thought, but he was far too pleased with Boone's dick to snark too sharply about his half-joking offer of some stress relief only being worth a twenty cap room rented by the half hour. Boone was thick and uncut, his cock flushed dusky pink and still carrying the sharp lye scent of cheap brahminfat soap.   
There was a thick pearl of precome smeared across the head already and it was all Arcade could do to restrain himself from asking if Craig had been saving it all up for him. Somehow he didn't think Boone was quite the sort to appreciate a little banter. Not the type to intellectualise it. A mouth was a mouth, something Arcade knew all too well. A lot of men had been just a mouth to him lately. Being in the position of nameless, faceless hole to be used was at at least a novelty.  
  
"No smart comments?" Boone's hand was back on his head, manhandling him towards his cock.   
  
 _No pleasantries._  
  
Arcade turned his head at the last moment, biting back a chuckle as Boone groaned at the alien sensation of stubble scraping down his shaft. "You know me," he said, punctuating his sentence with a breath that ruffled the tangle of sandy brown hair nestled at the root of Boone's cock. "Never a tasteless remark." He took Boone's cock in hand, feeling out the solid weight of it against his palm as rubbed the pad of his thumb over the flushed head. He smeared out a pearl of precome and pressed it to his lips, tongue darting out to taste. "You, however..."  
  
"You talk too fuckin' much," said Boone, and silenced Arcade the best way he knew how.

Boone set a punishing pace, and if he was trying to test Arcade's limits then it was almost - but not quite - working. He didn't care enough to be considerate, just shoved his dick past Arcade's lips and fucked his mouth, hands tangled in Gannon's hair to keep him just where he wanted him.   
Gannon gave as good as he got, fingertips digging into the hard lines of Boone's hips as he sucked him hard enough that his cheeks hollowed.   
  
His knees were killing him on the cold concrete floor, but the rest of him felt like he was on fire. It felt like Boone was towering over him, his boots leaving scruff marks on Arcade's trousers and his body heat doubling, tripling, as he used Gannon's mouth. It felt good. Unbelievably good. His jaw ached and spit covered his chin and there was a split in the corner of his lip that he'd absentmindedly worry with his tongue for weeks, but  _christ_  who gave a damn about that when he felt so good.   
  
Boone's hands clawed into his scalp, roughly trimmed nails snagging at his hair. Arcade kept him swallowed down so far that he was unable to breath, gagging around his dick until he pounded his fist on Boone's thigh to let him go.   
  
"Don't apologise," he said breathlessly. "I just need a moment. I just--"   
  
"Yeah," said Boone. "Don't want you leaving shit half finished."  
  
"Well, aren't you the considerate one." He jerked Boone off roughly as he sucked back big lungfuls of chilled air, and when he got his breath back he sat forward and licked him slow and wet from root to tip, again and again until Boone swore the air blue and pressed his cock against Arcade's mouth.   
  
The doctor pursed his lips and shook his head.   
  
"Don't you fuck me around," said Boone, and gritted his teeth as Arcade kissed the head of his cock all dainty and prim.  
  
"I have a better idea," said Arcade, and wrapped his hand around Boone's, fingers interlacing as he worked the sniper's foreskin back and forth. He turned his jaw a little, and glanced up through his lashes. "Hit me."  
  
Boone's eyes flicked from Arcade's face to his cock and back again, and blinked when Arcade practically purred at him to slap his mouth with his cock. He didn't need encouraging. There was a wet noise every time he slapped the head of his cock onto Arcade's lips, echoing loud in the sparsely furnished vault room, and Gannon's lips quickly flushed bright scarlet and his skin chin and cheeks warmed over pink, half from excitement and half from Boone's dick. When he finally - finally - noticed that the doc had a hand in his unzipped pants and was jerking himself off like a Golden Globes star, Boone grunted and told Gannon to suck him like he meant it.   
  
Arcade obliged, all hollowed cheeks and spit and the feeling of his throat clamping down on the head of Boone's cock. He hummed and groaned, and with a hand firmly on Boone's ass subtly encouraged him to fuck his mouth like he meant it.

Whatever intentions he'd had when he'd when he'd half-jokingly offered to prescribe Craig a blowjob as a stress reliever had been forgotten, completely out of his mind since Boone'd hit the switch on the Vault 21 suite door and brusquely barked out that he'd be on his knees or not at all. All he cared about right then was Boone's hand in his hair wrenching his head back, bruised lips stinging and eyes watering, long ribbons of spit snaking down his chin as Boone snarled and finished himself off all over Gannon's face.   
  
Doc Gannon had already squared himself away and splashed his face clean by the time Boone got his breath back, all slumped over on a hard vault chair with his knees against the unforgiving metal table legs. If it wasn't for his ruddy lips and cheeks flushed pink from the scratch of Vault 21's worn towels, Arcade looked as if he'd been engaged in nothing more than polite conversation.   
  
He hit the door release button and stopped in the doorway, a hand smoothing the breast of his shirt. "I'd prefer it if you kept this to yourself," he said not unkindly, and his fingertips brushed over a wet stain on his chest. Spit or water from the bathroom sink or something else; something probably best left a mystery.   
  
"No offence," Arcade continued, and gave Boone a small smile that was bordering on outright pity. "But I'm not in the habit of giving such, uh, charity. Stress relief, right? Take your time going back to the Lucky 38. Freshen up. You go back looking so roughed up, you'll have Six in a fluster for days."  
  
And that, as they say, was that.


End file.
